


Hungry

by arysa13



Series: prompts filled (bellarke) [35]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartender Bellamy, Bartender Clarke, Blow Jobs, Boss/Employee Relationship, Co-workers, F/M, Humor, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 20:33:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20197729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: Clarke isn't really interested in having a dick shoved down her throat until Raven tells her all about their boss's huge dick.





	Hungry

**Author's Note:**

> I went a little off prompt for this whoops
> 
> clarke and raven at the bar, and raven is just telling her how she enjoys it when her boyfriend shaw fucks her face and how it makes her gag and shit. and clarke is just like "im so glad im also attracted to girls. i dont see the whole appeal of having a dick in your mouth so big you cry like i use this thing to breath" and ofc the bartender bellamy there who she sees every week is gonna try and prove her wrong and clarke actually finds out shes what the kids call a size queen or something? bonus if he grabs her hair roughly, or chokes her a little

Clarke had tried to persuade Raven to go to a different bar tonight. It’s her night off, she doesn’t want to hang around work when there are so many other bars they can go to, where her boss won’t be there to see her trying to pick up. But Raven had persuaded her by pointing out that Bellamy will likely give them free drinks, or at the very least, a discount, since they work for him. And being a struggling artist during the day, Clarke jumps at the words _free _and _discount_.

Which is how they end up sitting at the bar at _Augustus’_. Bellamy evidently has a thing for Roman history.

“Here on your night off?” he grins as he greets them. “Just can’t stay away, can you?” His flirtation is directed at Raven of course. The two of them are always flirting, despite the fact that Raven has a boyfriend. She claims Shaw doesn’t care who she flirts with, as long as she’s only sleeping with him.

“Because you’re going to give us half price cocktails, right?” Raven hints.

Bellamy gives her an unimpressed look. “You can have one cocktail each, on the house. After that you can pay for them, or you can drink half price beer.”

“We’ll have two Orgasms,” Raven says. “And two cocktails as well,” she says cheekily. Bellamy glances at Clarke and she rolls her eyes.

“I’ve actually got just the thing for you,” Bellamy says to Raven. “Clarke? What’ll it be?”

“I’ll just have a Cosmo.”

“Coming right up,” he pats the bar then goes off to make their cocktails.

“Okay,” Raven says, turning on her stool to survey the moderately crowded bar. “Let’s see who you can go home with tonight.”

“I’m capable of doing that myself, thank you,” Clarke says.

“Yeah, but I have a boyfriend and I have to live vicariously through you.”

“Aren’t you like—in love with Shaw?”

“Sure I am. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss dating sometimes,” Raven says. She turns back to Clarke. “Although, you know, the sex just keeps getting better and better the longer we’re together. It’s like he’s making me realise I’m into things I never thought I would be into.”

“Like what?” Clarke asks, although she’s wondering if she should have waited until she had some alcohol in her to ask. Raven already shares way more of her sex life with Clarke than Clarke cares to know.

“You know how I told you Shaw has a really big dick?” Raven says, not bothering to lower her voice at all.

“I remember.”

“Okay, well sometimes he just like—fucks my face. Like just shoves his dick down my throat and makes me gag and choke on it. It’s so hot.”

“You _like _that?” Clarke snorts. “God, I don’t even like sucking dick at the best of times, let alone having one shoved down my throat. This is why I prefer going down on women.”

“Come on,” Raven says, trying to coax a different response out of her. “You don’t find it a _little _bit hot?”

“No. Gross,” Clarke screws up her nose. “How are you even supposed to breathe? I just don’t see the appeal of having a dick in your mouth so big you cry.”

“Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it,” comes Bellamy’s voice.

Clarke whips her head around, her face growing hot. Of all the things for him to overhear.

“Have _you _tried it?” she quips, despite her embarrassment.

“Giving or receiving?” he grins. Clarke already regrets asking. Bellamy doesn’t seem to be embarrassed in the slightest, while Clarke’s face is already three shades redder. _Why _does she have to have a crush on her boss? It’s the worst. He winks at her, and her stomach goes all mushy.

“You might like it,” he says, his voice dropping low. Clarke’s breath hitches. Is he _offering_?

“You have no idea what I like.”

Bellamy tilts his head, as if to say _maybe, maybe not_. He places two cocktails on the bar, a pink one and an orange one. “A Cosmo and my new invention, the Raven Reyes.”

“You made me my own cocktail?” Raven says, delighted. Bellamy laughs. “What’s in it?”

“Vodka, mostly,” he says, still grinning. Clarke pouts, taking a sullen sip of her cocktail.

“Relax, Princess,” Bellamy says, noticing her displeasure. “I’m inventing one for you too. And then we’ll see if I know what you like or not.”

He winks at her again, then he wanders off to serve someone else, leaving Clarke staring after him, open mouthed.

“Is he allowed to say that to me?” Clarke asks Raven.

“As if you didn’t love it,” Raven snorts. She takes a sip of her cocktail. “You should try it,” she says.

“It just looks like a regular Screwdriver to me.”

“There’s definitely something else in here,” Raven says, studying the glass like it will tell her the secret ingredient. “But that’s not what I was talking about. You should try having your face fucked by a huge dick.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Even if I did want to do that, what am I supposed to do, just stand up on this barstool and ask the room who has the biggest dick?”

“Just ask Bellamy.”

“Does he make all his patrons show him their dicks? Is that a new policy?”

“No, I mean, he has a huge dick. Bigger than Shaw’s even.”

Clarke almost chokes on her Cosmo. “How do you even know that?”

“I fucked him like… a week after I was hired.”

“And you’re only telling me this _now_?”

Raven shrugs and takes a sip of her not-Screwdriver. “I didn’t want you to be jealous.”

“_Jealous_?” Clarke sputters. “Why would I be jealous?”

Raven raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Please, Clarke, your crush on him is so obvious. So why don’t you just go over there and tell him you want his dick in your mouth? We’ll all be happier for it.”

Clarke looks over to where he’s flirting with another patron. “He’s not interested in me,” Clarke mutters.

“But you do want his dick in your mouth?”

“No,” Clarke says. Except, she would totally suck his dick if he wanted her to. Even if it’s as big as Raven says. She feels a throb between her legs, and she squeezes her thighs together tightly, telling herself she’s not turned on by the thought of having his huge cock in her mouth.

“Whatever you say, Clarke,” Raven snorts. She turns back around to survey the room. “We’ll find you someone with a small dick, shall we? Or no dick? Wouldn’t want to get you out of your comfort zone.”

Despite Raven’s best efforts at finding a target for Clarke to go home with, Clarke ends up going home alone. She feels too awkward trying to hit on someone when Bellamy is right there. Not that she thinks he’s _watching _her or anything, or paying even the slightest bit of attention to her. But he’s her boss and it would be weird. It’s got nothing to do with the fact that she has a crush on him.

She clambers into bed, still half drunk, and switches the lamp off. She’ll probably scroll through social media for a while before she goes to sleep. She gets a text from Raven, that at a glance reads: _Look what I found. You’re welcome_.

Clarke opens it, then sits bolt upright, her heart pounding, when she sees the picture attached. Bellamy’s cock. She knows it has to be his, even though his face isn’t in the picture. But it’s his skin tone, and his hair colour, and covered in freckles, just like his face. And it’s fucking huge. Clarke almost whimpers out loud at the sight of it, and she can feel her panties getting damp. Which doesn’t make any sense, because Clarke doesn’t even _like _big dicks. She’s pretty sure.

Another text from Raven comes through informing her, in case she hadn’t already figured it out, that is, in fact, Bellamy. Clarke doesn’t respond. She stares at the picture for a hell of a lot longer than is probably healthy before she puts her phone down. The image is burned into her mind now anyway. How is she supposed to sleep after seeing that?

She lies there, cunt throbbing, willing herself to think of anything else. She slips her hand under the covers, pausing at the waistband of her pyjamas, before sliding underneath and pressing her fingers into her slit. God, she’s wet. So fucking wet. She pulls her fingers away hastily, curling her hand into a fist. She’s never masturbated to the thought of him before, and she’s not going to start now. It’s not because she’s never _wanted _to. But she’s sure if she did, he’d somehow _know_. Which is ridiculous, but she still can’t take that risk.

So she keeps her arms on top of the covers, but she still thinks about his cock inside her until she falls asleep.

-

She hurries in to the bar the following night, dressed in black jeans and a low-cut tank top. The more cleavage she shows, the more tips she gets.

“I’m not late!” she yells at Bellamy as she passes, heading out the back to the staff area. She throws her bag down, scoops her hair on top of her head and ties it there, making peace with the fact that she’ll have to put up with the strands that fall out.

It’s busy already when she gets back out and takes her place behind the bar, and the first couple of hours go quickly. She barely says two words to Bellamy. She does, however, find herself constantly distracted by him, and she keeps glancing at his crotch. Not that anything is visible in his dark jeans. But she knows what’s under there now, and she can’t stop thinking about it.

He touches her a few times, as he passes behind her, or reaches in front of her, and each time her heart stops for a moment. Is it possible her crush got even more unbearable overnight?

Eventually the night winds down, and they kick the stragglers out in the early morning so they can close up. Clarke stacks glasses while she watches Bellamy wipe down the bar, her eyes following every movement of his muscled arms. She’s never been more aware that it’s just the two of them, alone in an empty bar. She should feel exhausted after that shift, but she’s never felt more awake.

They clean up in silence, which isn’t totally unusual, but it’s not exactly _usual _either. She’s not sure if it’s a _they’re both tired and want to go home _kind of silence, or a _I’ve been thinking about your cock for the last twenty-four hours and I don’t know how to talk to you _kind of silence.

“All done?” Bellamy eventually asks, snapping Clarke out of her little fantasy in which he pushes her down onto her knees right here in front of him and shoves his cock into her mouth.

“Um, yes,” Clarke says, her cheeks heating up.

“You ready to try something new?”

“What?” Clarke says. Her heart is thrumming in her chest and her mouth has gone dry. Surely he can’t mean—?

“Remember what I said last night?” Clarke nods slowly. She remembers all too well. She hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. “Don’t you want to try it?”

Clarke stares at him. She can hardly believe he’s asking, or that he’s being so casual about it. Especially after how she responded to him yesterday. Does he _know _she’s been thinking about his cock all night? Maybe he caught her constantly looking at his crotch.

“Okay,” she whispers hoarsely.

“Okay, just give me a second—close your eyes,” he says. Clarke’s eyes flutter shut. She has no idea what’s happening, but she’s all too happy to let him take the lead. Her cunt throbs. She can’t believe how much she wants this.

She fidgets nervously. She can hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She can only be glad he’s not making fun of her for her quick change of heart. She had been so adamant last night, and all it took was a picture of his cock to get her to change her mind.

“Okay,” Bellamy says. He’s standing right in front of her. She can practically feel him, though he’s not touching her at all. “Open your mouth.”

Fuck, she’s so nervous. “Shouldn’t I be on my knees for this?” she asks. She hardly recognises the sound of her own voice, it’s so weak and desperate.

“On your knees?”

Clarke opens her eyes. Bellamy is standing there in front of her, holding a pink cocktail in a martini glass, a little paper straw pointed towards her. Oh.

“Oh my god,” Clarke whispers. Her gut drops. He meant the fucking cocktail. Because of course he did. “Um, thanks,” she says, taking the cocktail from him. Her face is hot as hell, and she’s pretty sure she’s never been more embarrassed in her life. There’s no way she can sweep that _on her knees_ comment under the rug, right?

Clarke downs half the cocktail quickly. It tastes amazing. Like peach, mostly. She’s sure she’d enjoy it more if she wasn’t feeling like the biggest fool on the planet.

“Clarke—did you think I meant—”

She can’t look at him. “It doesn’t matter,” she says quickly, shoving the half full glass back into his hands. “I’m an idiot. The cocktail is very nice, thanks.”

“Guess I do know what you like, huh?” Clarke wants to die. “Clarke, look at me,” Bellamy says firmly. His deep voice is so fierce and commanding, she can do nothing but obey. He’s not laughing at her. He doesn’t look offended or disgusted. His pupils are blown wide, mirroring her own, Clarke is sure.

Bellamy puts the glass down on the bench beside him. He folds his arms and Clarke watches his muscles tense. God, everything he does is so sexy.

“Bellamy—” she starts, though she has no idea where she’s going.

“Get on your knees,” he says. Clarke feels a thrill go through her. She bites her lip, searching Bellamy’s eyes to make sure he’s serious. He stares her down.

Clarke swallows, then slowly sinks to her knees in front of him, her eyes never leaving his. He steps forward and pulls the tie from her hair so it cascades around her shoulders.

“What do you want, Clarke?”

“I want your cock in my mouth.” God, she wants it so bad. “Please.”

Bellamy’s hands move to his belt, and Clarke watches as he undoes it, mesmerised by his big hands. She should’ve known his cock was huge just from looking at his enormous hands. He undoes his fly and drops his pants. Clarke’s heart speeds up with every movement. She can see the outline of his erection in his boxers.

She looks up at his face again.

“You can take them off,” he tells her.

Clarke tries not to look too eager as she turns her attention to his crotch again. She edges his boxers down, revealing his cock. The picture really didn’t do it justice. It’s so much bigger in real life, so much bigger than she could comprehend from the picture. It’s all freckled and veiny, and hard, just for her.

“Open your mouth,” he commands her for the second time tonight. Clarke drops her jaw for him. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart.”

Bellamy threads his fingers into her hair, then fists it into his hand, tugging her head back roughly. She gasps, making her mouth open wider, and then the head of his cock on her tongue, invading her mouth.

He tastes a little of sweat and a little of salt, but nothing overpowering. And anyway, the taste of him is irrelevant compared to how he fills her mouth.

“You like that, don’t you?” Bellamy says as he pushes his cock further into her mouth, still holding onto her hair. “Knew you would. Knew you’d love having my huge cock in your mouth. You’re a closet size queen, aren’t you? And maybe a closet submissive too?”

Clarke flushes, but she can’t answer with his cock filling her mouth so completely. He holds her head in place so she can’t move.

“You look so pretty like this, Clarke. On your knees, your pretty little lips wrapped around my cock. So greedy for it. You want to choke on it, don’t you? Want me to fuck your face, take me so far down your throat you can’t breathe.”

Clarke whimpers, the growing need between her legs telling her he’s right. She hums against his cock, letting him know that’s exactly what she wants. His cock hits the back of her throat and she gags.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Bellamy says, pulling back slightly. Clarke feels a swell of shame that she’s disappointed him. There’s still so much of him left, and she’s eager to have his whole cock inside her. She has this desperate need to please him, to show him she can take it all, that she can be good for him.

“Let’s try again,” Bellamy says. This time when Bellamy reaches the back of her throat, Clarke manages to stifle her gag reflex. “Good girl,” Bellamy whispers, shoving the rest of his cock down her throat, pushing her face against his crotch, his pubic hair tickling her nose.

Clarke’s throat protests the invasion, wants to close up, dislodge the intruder. The rest of her body welcomes him, feels proud that she can take all of him. Her pussy aches, desperate for something inside it. Tears form in her eyes as he holds her there, and she chokes a little. It’s too much. She can’t breathe. She’s going to die from choking on his cock. But what a way to go, right?

He releases her, saliva dripping from her mouth as he pulls his cock out. She wipes her mouth, face flaming as she looks up at him. As overwhelming as it was to have his cock in her throat, she misses it now that it’s gone.

“Don’t worry, I’m still going to fuck your face,” Bellamy tells her. “Just giving you a little break.”

“Okay,” Clarke says.

“How’d that feel, huh? Having my cock shoved down your throat? You liked it, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Clarke nods.

Bellamy considers her for a moment. “How about your take your clothes off? Think I want to see you nice and naked for me.”

Clarke nods. She can feel his eyes on her as she pulls her tank top over her head, then unclips her bra, revealing her breasts to him. Then she unbuttons her jeans with shaky hands. She goes to get to her feet so she can pull them off, but Bellamy puts his hand on her head to hold her down.

“No,” he says. “You’ll stay on your knees until I’m done with you.”

Clarke nods, then pulls her jeans and panties down as far as she can. God, she feels dirty. She’s essentially naked on the sticky floor of her place of employment, her boss’s cock inches from her face. This is so not the kind of girl she is.

Bellamy looks down at her, and she flushes under his appraising gaze. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he says, almost as if he’s annoyed about it. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I hired you.” He strokes his cock as he talks and Clarke eyes it, her mouth watering.

“You’re so hungry for it, aren’t you?” Bellamy whispers. “Desperate for my cock.”

Clarke nods. “Please,” she whimpers. “Use my mouth. I want you to. I need it.”

Bellamy fists his hands into her hair, and she opens her mouth wide. He doesn’t take it slow this time. He shoves his cock into her mouth as far as it can go, lodging himself in her throat, showing her exactly who she belongs to and what she’s good for.

He pulls back slightly, but it’s only so he can thrust in again, and then he’s fucking her face in earnest, his hands tight in her hair, his balls slapping against her chin obscenely. Clarke can hardly breathe, and tears stream from her eyes, as he thrusts against her face, assaulting her mouth as if she’s just a hole to be used.

It’s overwhelming, degrading, and a little painful. But, god, she loves it. Her cunt pounds. She wants to slip her fingers between her legs and finger herself. The sounds he’s making, the grunts, the groans, let her know just how much he likes it too.

“Fuck, Clarke,” her swears. “Feels so good. Bet you’re desperate for something in your pussy, too, aren’t you? Bet you’re wet as hell.”

She makes an attempt at an answer, but all that comes out is a muffled moan as he continues to fuck her face.

“Touch yourself, Clarke,” Bellamy says, panting. “Want you to feel as good as I feel.”

Clarke doesn’t hesitate, her hand dropping between her legs, straight to her clit. She’s in no state to tease herself and take it slow, and she rubs her clit with the same vigour of Bellamy’s forceful thrusts.

“I’m gonna come, Clarke,” Bellamy groans. “Gonna come in your mouth, just like you want.”

She whimpers at that, obsessed with the thought of his come on her tongue, filling her mouth. It should disgust her, right? Why doesn’t any of this disgust her?

He grabs her hair harder as he comes, tugging it roughly as he spills into her mouth. Clarke lets his come fill her mouth, still fingering herself, almost there. She speeds up her motions, desperate now, and then her orgasm hits her, just as Bellamy finishes.

Clarke gasps, and come spills out of her mouth, dripping over her bottom lip and chin. She swallows the rest as Bellamy pulls out of her mouth and she rides out her orgasm. She collapses onto her thighs, breathing heavy, the taste of come in her mouth, her face all sticky with it.

She looks up at Bellamy, feeling dirty and a little embarrassed, but satisfied. Bellamy grabs a handful of napkins from the bar and hands them to her.

“You okay?” he asks her. Clarke nods, taking the napkins and wiping her face. Bellamy grabs some napkins of his own to clean up his dick.

“I’m a little—surprised at myself,” she admits.

“I gotta say, I’m a little surprised myself,” Bellamy grins. “You changed your mind pretty quickly.”

“Um,” Clarke says, blushing. She watches him as he pulls his boxers back up, and then his pants. Clarke is aware that she’s still naked on the floor, but part of her wants him to tell her what to do still. So she waits for his permission to get dressed. “Raven sent me a picture of your dick. That’s what made me change my mind.”

Bellamy laughs. “That impressive, was it?” He looks her up and down, then seems to realise she’s waiting for him to tell her she can get dressed. “You can put your clothes back on,” he says.

Clarke is silent as she dresses, Bellamy’s eyes on her the whole time. He holds out a hand to help her to her feet.

“You did like it, didn’t you?” Bellamy asks, searching her eyes. “You didn’t just—do it because I’m your boss or something?”

Clarke shakes her head. “I wanted it,” she confesses. She doesn’t know how she’s going to fuck anybody else after that. After knowing what his cock looks like, what it tastes like. All she wants is to know what it feels like in her cunt. She’s going to have to buy herself a bigger dildo. “Is it going to be weird now?” Clarke whispers. “Working together, now that we’ve done that?”

Bellamy shakes his head. He surprises her then by reaching forward and taking her hand. So gentle after the way he used her mouth only minutes earlier. She looks down to where their hands meet, her heart racing.

“Listen, I know that was a lot,” Bellamy says. “And definitely not a romantic start for us,” he grins. “But would you want to maybe date me?”

“Date you?”

Bellamy nods. “Yeah,” he says. “I like you a lot. I’ve liked you for a long time, but I never said anything because you work for me. But I feel like that line might have already been crossed now.”

Clarke ducks her head, smiling. She can still taste his come. “You’re probably right.”

“So what do you say? If you say no, I promise I won’t be weird about it and I’ll just go back to being your annoying boss.”

“You’re not annoying,” Clarke tells him. “And yes. I want to date you.”


End file.
